


Struck By You

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: The Assassin and the Prince [2]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. “I wouldn't come back to this place where I'm a wanted criminal,” Mark whispers in his ear, the hot air sending more shivers down his spine. “If I didn't love you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Struck By You

**Author's Note:**

> For a word prompt sent to me by Elgan aka bisexualjse on Tumblr, the word being _Baisemain_ \- A kiss on the hand. 
> 
> Got a little carried away. Ohhh welll. 
> 
> Enjoy!

| _"Well, I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be **struck by you** , I wanna make you move, because you're standing still..."_ |

~~

It's much too loud.

Jack swirls the dark wine around in his goblet, his gaze flitting between the rambunctious folk hammered off their arses, and the other members of the kingdom making idle conversation as if they hadn't seen each other in years. 

He sips the sweet tasting liquid carefully, running his thumb along the gems that embroider the side. After he swallows, he sets the goblet down, never having been much for wine, and besides—he can feel a slow heat crawling up his neck. If he wants to last through the night, it's best to stop while he's way, _way_ ahead.

Jack searches for something in this banquet to make him happy, but nothing about it is remotely pleasing. Sure, it's for him, but yet he doesn't feel there's anything to be celebrated. Here he is, betrothed to a girl he doesn't love, who doesn't love him, whom he's never met, and he's supposed to be happy about it? Perhaps it will strengthen the alliance of their kingdoms, of course, but alliances are so easily shattered in this day and age. Sometimes, a royal's love for their kin does not overshadow the hatred of their enemies for a wrongdoing. 

How easily he is given away, he thinks, for being the youngest member of the royal house. 

Jack glances at his fiancée by his side. She looks equally as bored as he is, her hands neatly folded in her lap, yet she plays the part of happy better than he. Her smile is soft and delicate, dark hair framing her face, flowing over her shoulders effortlessly. She really is beautiful, and any prince would be lucky to have her.

_He_ should be lucky to have her. But the love in his heart is not for her. It is for another. Another he will never have. 

Jack sighs. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and a dull ache is settling into his shoulders. He stands, the chair screeching on the floor as he mumbles, “I'm retiring for the night,” before heading towards the doors. He feels his parents' eyes on him as he sweeps out of the room, and he knows he'll likely get in trouble for his abrupt departure later. 

The youngest prince stows himself away in his chambers, sighing as he closes the heavy doors, bolting them shut. He unclasps his cloak, the heavy material falling at his feet with a thud. Jack pulls off the crown adoring his head and drops it, too. All of the thieves in the world are clutching their hearts with anguish over his carelessness for his things, his _nice_ things, his _pretty_ things. 

Jack thinks of his wedding in three days' time. God, his _wedding_. He's getting married. He's supposed to be excited. He's supposed to be ready to spend the rest of his life with this girl. 

But he isn't. Jack runs his hands through his hair and over his face, another heavy sigh escaping him. 

In the midst of his thoughts, warm hands weave their way around his waist, pressing into his stomach. Against the back of his neck, he feels the press of lips—soft as words vibrate against his skin. “You seem tense.” 

His heart spikes in his chest. Jack whirls around, ready to punch the fucker who's touching him when he finds his wrist caught in a strong grip. He swings the other in the same way, a blind move, but that too is halted before it ever connects. 

“Easy there,” Mark mumbles. “You and I both know you've never been very good at hand to hand combat, and certainly haven't improved in the last three months.” 

“Get the fuck away from me,” Jack hisses, surprised by the vehemence in his voice. “You have no right to be here.” 

Ignoring him, Mark pins him to the wall, trapped between his own flesh and the cool stone. He whispers, “Great to see you're still pissed.” 

“You're so lucky I'm not as strong as you,” Jack replies tartly. “Otherwise I'd take your ass to the ground for even _thinking_ I'm not still pissed at you.” 

“Oh, I thought you were still pissed,” Mark leans in closer, their noses almost touching. “Just checking to see if I was right.” 

Before Jack can get another word in, Mark bridges the gap between them and kisses him gently, tentatively, as if asking, letting go of one of his wrists to cup his cheek. Jack responds favorably for only a moment, before he realizes what's happening, and who he's kissing. He tears his lips away, before he can fall under the spell again. “No, no, fuck you.” 

“Jack,” Mark says, his name falling off his tongue so effortlessly. He sounds so desperate. “Jack, please.” 

“ _No._ ” Jack pushes at his shoulder with his now free hand, but the other man remains still. “You don't get to do this to me. You don't get to make me feel like this anymore, Mark.” 

Mark snakes a hand around the back of his neck, kissing him again, almost in a desperate haze. Jack begins to pull away again, but he's losing the battle within himself, his mind reminiscent of days long past. The other rocks forward and pins him further, their chests pressing together. He can feel Mark's erratic heartbeat against his skin, and God, _God_ , he's falling back into this spell as he kisses back hungrily. 

But he can't. It's not as if Jack doesn't want to kiss Mark. It's not as if he doesn't want this completely. It's _all_ he's wanted for the last three months, what's keeping him from loving his new bride. But this feeling doesn't change who Mark is and what he's done, to both Jack and to his kingdom. 

Jack breaks the kiss, panting softly as he snarls again, “You tried to kill me, you bastard.” 

Mark meets his gaze with unreadable, brown eyes, his features a stone mask. He replies hollowly, “I know.” 

The man before him is an assassin for hire. Six months prior to all of this, he'd been contracted to kill Jack—and Mark is nothing if not efficient. He hadn't decided to kill him right away, no, Mark had spent three months getting closer to Jack, posing as a humble servant. After all, so many servants worked the castle grounds—what was one more? He'd wormed his way into Jack's life, finding solace in his bed and his heart. 

His death had never occurred, obviously. He remembers the night he'd almost died at his hands, however. He remembers waking up to a creak in the floor, remembers Mark looming over him with a knife in his hand. He remembers screaming so loudly, not only out of fear, but out of horror, horror because of the fact that the man he'd fallen in love with was nothing but a ruse. 

The guards had come and dragged Mark away. He hadn't fought them, just deflated as his eyes never left Jack's face, almost as if mortified of what he'd done. 

But he hadn't been. He couldn't have been. Mark had escaped from prison before execution—and had been missing for three months. Yet here he is, in the flesh, sneaking his way back into him with such ease Jack hated _himself_. But more than that, he hates Mark for what he'd done. 

As if feeling his hatred, Mark kisses his cheek, then his lips again, as if in apology. “There's not a moment I don't regret what I tried to do.” 

Jack shivers as the assassin peppers kisses down his neck. He grips his shoulder tight, but doesn't trust himself to speak. Mark goes on, “I didn't make all of that up, Jack. What we had...it was all me. It was real. I swear, it was real. It wasn't a ruse or a trick. That was all me.” 

“What a lying bastard you still are,” Jack says, his breath hitching in his throat as Mark kisses at his jawline. 

“I wouldn't come back to this place where I'm a wanted criminal,” Mark whispers in his ear, the hot air sending more shivers down his spine. “If I didn't love you.” 

The words pierce his heart, and Jack grips even tighter onto his shoulder. Mark releases his other hand and Jack feels his resolve slipping. He knows he shouldn't, but the moment his hand is freed he grabs Mark by the hair and pulls him in for another needy kiss. The other complies eagerly, yanking their hips together, rolling against each other. 

Jack can feel his arousal pooling in his stomach, wanting to feel Mark's skin against him once again. He tilts his head back and Mark kisses him more fervently, slipping a hand under his shirt to rub across his stomach. 

He pulls away for only a moment to mumble against his lips, “Tell me you don't want this. Tell me you don't love me and I'll stop. Tell me you hate me and I'll go away forever.” 

But Jack knows he can't. He knows he still loves Mark after all he's done to him, and he despite _everything_ , he _knows_ Mark is being sincere. He can feel it in his bones. He whispers, “Don't stop.” 

Eventually, they sink to the floor. Mark pulls Jack into his lap, leaving pecks down his neck again. He tugs at the collar of Jack's tunic, pulling it aside to lavish his collarbone with attention. Jack trembles with desire. 

“I couldn't get you out of my mind,” Mark is saying as he kisses every part of his body he can get at. His shoulders and neck again, his cheeks and his lips. “I tried so hard. Tried to forget about you. But you were always there, in my dreams and in my thoughts. Everlasting.” 

He presses their foreheads together. Both of them are panting. “I had to come back. I had to see you again, Jack. I had to tell you I love you. I knew you hated me but I had to tell you.” 

“I love you,” Jack blurts out, closing his eyes. “I hated you for tricking me, I hated you for lying to me, Mark. I really did. But I love you.” 

“I didn't want to kill you,” Mark sounds as though he is pleading for Jack to believe him. “I couldn't do it. I dragged it out so long because I couldn't do it. I would've dragged it out forever. My client was getting impatient. Threatened to send someone else. I thought at least if I did it, you wouldn't feel a thing.” 

The assassin brings his hands up to cup his cheeks, rubbing his thumbs along the soft skin. “But I couldn't. I was gonna tell you everything. But you woke up. You woke up and I couldn't explain, and I had to get myself out. What I did—what I _do_ isn't right, but I love you all the same.” 

“I love you too,” Jack says again, because what else can he say? 

Mark kisses him yet again. It still sends sparks through him, setting him alight with sensation. Against his lips, Mark mutters, “Run away with me.” 

Jack pulls away, staring at him incredulously. “What?” 

“Run away with me,” Mark repeats, grabbing his hand. He kisses the knuckles, then his palm, then each fingertip, grinning at the way Jack flushes. “I'm not...I'm not a good man, but I'll do anything for you. I'll go to the ends of the earth for you. I'll protect you with my life. I'll give you everything I am. Run away with me, Sean, run away with me.” 

The use of his real name speaks volumes to him. But he can't possibly, it's a preposterous idea. He says as much. “You're insane.” 

“Only for you,” he replies. “There's nothing for you here, Jack. You said so yourself. The life of a prince isn't for you, you said. You crave adventure. It's in your eyes.” 

He quirks a smile. “It's in these beautiful eyes. The spark of an adventurer.” 

“My duty...” he protests weakly. “My fiancée...” 

“You're but a pawn in this grand game of chess,” Mark retaliates. “How easily your parents gave you away to a woman you don't love, for their own gain. You will never become king—your life will always be played by the rules of others. It will be your sisters, your brothers before you, always. They will own you. But not with me. Your life will be your own.” 

He isn't wrong. Jack knows he's nothing but a pretty face in the sea of royals, in his own family. His siblings lives come before his own—as the baby, as the youngest, he is the most dispensable. He's a piece used for alliances, given away freely as if he were gold or gems, or a ransom. 

“My family will be frantic,” he tries again. “They'll ransack the nine kingdoms to find me.” 

“But they won't find you if you don't want to be found,” Mark assures him. “Say you'll come with me, Jack.” 

Jack's silence deters Mark. The prince averts his eyes, trying to think it over. He loves Mark, but he has an obligation, a moral sense of right and wrong—leaving would be wrong, and yet...he wants to go. He's been in this cage for so long, unable to leave, unable to stray from a shaky and uncertain future ahead of him. 

“If you want to stay,” Mark sighs. “I won't make you go. I'll watch you get married in three days, and then I'll leave, if it's what you want.” 

He isn't manipulating him. Jack can tell that he's being totally serious—if Jack says the word, Mark will leave. He'll leave him to his life and duty and obligation as prince—he'll let him get married and let him live out the rest of his days as Prince Sean McLoughlin, the shiniest pawn of the chessboard. 

But he doesn't want that. 

“I don't want you to leave,” Jack says, pressing their foreheads together again. He wraps his arms around his neck. “I don't want you to leave again.” 

As if to reassure him of this, it's Jack's turn to take the initiate and kiss him deeply. 

“When do we leave?” he asks. 

Mark smiles. “Now.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments & Kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
